


Training Exercise

by Zelos



Series: Ready Room [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Falcon's wings, Friendship, Gen, Test Flight, training exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelos/pseuds/Zelos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhodes was already stepping into his War Machine suit. “We’ll go up for a test flight.”</p><p>“We? I don’t need a babysitter,” Sam protested automatically. “I was trained for this, remember?”</p><p>Rhodes flipped up his faceplate to give him a <i>look</i>. “Have you used Stark tech before?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Exercise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



> Written for a [prompt](http://avengersgen.livejournal.com/3373.html?thread=318253#t318253) at avengersgen:
> 
> I kinda just want a scenario in which Sam gets his wings back (repaired/upgraded by Tony?) and he ends up doing something with Rhodey in the Iron Patriot/War Machine armor. It doesn't necessarily have to be a big saving-the-day fight scene (although that would be cool!); maybe it's just Rhodey helping Sam test out the new wings and being present to catch him if the tech fails and he falls.

Steve was pacing back and forth and back and forth in that agitated, terse way that reminded Sam of a caged tiger. He wasn’t outright complaining (yet), but this was apparently as close as Steve Rogers got to sulking. Every line of his body screamed that he didn’t want to be here, that he’d rather be a million miles away.

“Knock it off, Rogers,” Stark said sharply. “Your trail on Barnes has been cold for ages. Wilson picking up his wings isn’t delaying you any, I guaran-goddamn-tee it. I will personally fly you back to exactly where you left off and I promise you your bed in whatever hovel you were staying at will still be warm.”

Steve did not look mollified, but at least he stopped wearing a hole in the floor with his super soldier boots.

Stark rolled his eyes but turned back to Sam. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Lights!” On command, the lights dimmed. “Presenting…FALCON!!”

The wings were essentially just a jetpack, although the wings themselves lent far more agility and control than a standard jetpack. Still, it wasn’t an armoured suit. It wasn’t even that big. It did _not_ need a glass encasing and a pedestal (a pedestal, really, Stark?!) rising out of the floor. There were even _coloured spotlights_ , for crying out loud. And music. Sam was pretty sure that was Edward Elgar’s _Pomp and Circumstance_.

Somewhere in the background, Stark’s one-armed robots were throwing streamers and glitter. Showboats, the lot of them.

Sam tried (in vain) to resist the smile as he stepped up to remove the glass enclosure. The wing-pack felt pretty similar, if a touch heftier. Surprisingly, there was no (obnoxious) Stark Industries logo anywhere on the wings.

Sam brushed his fingers against the enclosures and straps, and he felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. A yearning, an ache, mingled with a yawning loss that hasn’t quite stopped since Riley had died. His heart fluttered in his chest against the sudden surge of adrenaline. He drew a hard, shaky breath.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Sam said quietly.

Stark waved that off, but there was a devilish gleam in his eye.

Rhodes was already stepping into his War Machine suit. “We’ll go up for a test flight.”

“We? I don’t need a babysitter,” Sam protested automatically. “I was trained for this, remember?”

Rhodes flipped up his faceplate to give him a _look_. “Have you used Stark tech before?”

Sam stared at War Machine, gleaming silver, blue, and red. He thought of Tony Stark, of Iron Man, flying a nuke on his back.  Thought of three Helicarriers in the air powered by Stark tech.

The grin on Stark’s face was nothing short of wolfish. Even Steve looked faintly amused.

“Point,” Sam conceded.

 

“STARK DID YOU FORGET I’M NOT WEARING A SUIT?!?!” Sam screamed—or at least, he tried to. It came out more like “DAG JU FAAAGA” and assorted garbles as the rushing wind ripped the words out of his mouth before he’d finished forming them.

This thing was a _beauty_. So much _faster_ than his old one, and far superior controls—he could make turns with half the turn radius of his old set, and he was pretty sure that he hasn’t even scratched the surface of his new wings’ capabilities. Now his flights were limited by whether his body could _survive_ the trip and not just the raw capabilities of the jetpack.

Tony Stark really was a genius. And if Sam survived the next five minutes, Sam might even tell him so.

War Machine bellowed something above him. Probably something helpful like “Turn!”

“AAAAAAAAAH!” Sam turned, and narrowly missed a fire escape.

Tony Stark has a wealth of open airspace over his newly rebuilt Malibu mansion. Rumour has it that he even tested out his own Iron Man suits there. It would make sense for Sam to test out the new wings there, right? Clear airspace, no obstacles, no collateral. Of course it would. Too much sense.

“No, you need an _obstacle course_ ,” Stark had declared. “How the hell am I supposed to know how well that thing can bank if you don’t put it through its paces?”

Which was why Sam was flying around Malibu proper, weaving around buildings and fire escapes and lampposts and way too many goddamn obstacles in general, with only War Machine to save him from making a splat of himself against a wall somewhere.

Sam was pretty sure reckless endangerment of citizens was enough to get him court-martialled and discharged (if he could be considered an active service member to begin with) posthaste. Rhodes and Stark had shrugged and said not to worry about it. Even Steve, goddamn _Captain America_ , hadn’t protested.

Of course he hadn’t. This was _Tony fucking Stark_.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Sam banked again and missed a construction crane.

He was going to _kill_ Tony Stark.

Up!

Left!

Left again!

Right!

Up, left-left-left-up-right-up-up-up!!

“HAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Sam screamed in terror, delight, and the pure adrenaline _rush_ as he cut through greenery, dove through the golden arches of a McDonald’s, and weaved around an entire street’s worth of too-expensive mansions.

People were screaming and yelling beneath him, although whether it was for him or for War Machine higher above him it was hard to tell. Many were cheering as the pair drew arcing trails of smoke through the dusky Malibu sky.

Oh, he missed this. Missed the freedom of flying without Riley’s ghost, without Captain America’s mission weighing him down. He missed the _rush_.

Rhodes was calling out something to him, not that Sam could hear a damn word over the rushing of wind. He didn’t have a suit, didn’t have a comm, and that suited him just fine because nothing, _nothing_ beat the wind in your hair and adrenaline singing in your veins.

“WHAAAAAAT?” Sam yelled back as a token acknowledgement.

Rhodes apparently decided to go for a demonstration instead and dove straight for Sam. But while the suits had speed and a hell of a lot more weapons, Sam has agility; the wings could give Iron Man a run for his money when it came to cornering and it was leagues beyond War Machine.

Sam twisted sideways into a barrel roll as War Machine shot past him. Rhodes spun around and shot upwards for a second grab but Sam was already _gone_ , veering side-to-side in a jagged pattern and easily dodging War Machine’s attempts. He couldn’t tell if the screams of laughter were from Rhodes or him.

“You’re too slow,” he called out to Rhodes, righting himself into an easy hover. Rhodes stopped opposite him 300 yards out.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Rhodes rumbled back, laughter in his mechanized voice.

“Yeah, that’s how it is,” and this was insane, you did _not_ sass War Machine, but Sam and Rhodes had been airmen long before Rhodes stepped into that suit.

He could _hear_ Rhodes’ grin. “If I tag you, you’re buying dinner. And lemme tell you, Rogers can eat.”

Sam snorted rudely. “I’ve got first-hand experience with that, buddy.”

Rhodes laughed again and gunned straight for him but Sam was already _gone_ , weaving easily through the beams of a construction site. By the time Rhodes made it out Sam was two miles out and still laughing.

Ten minutes later Rhodes hasn’t caught so much as a flicker of his shadow. Out in the open air, he was screwed, but in an obstacle course? Rhodes hasn’t a prayer. The wings could out-corner _anything_ , and that was before it got souped up. Stark tech was worth every bit of its reputation and more.

Left-down-right-right-down-left-up-up-straight up!

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH—”

“TREE!!” Rhodes bellowed behind him just as his wingtip clipped the branch—the one he hadn’t seen around that corner because _he_ didn’t have an HUD.

City ordinances required trees to be a certain distance from buildings, who fucked up a tree _fuck_ he was screwed—

Sam tumbled through the air, and this time his scream wasn’t so delighted. The wings weren’t _banking_ , where was his fucking chute, Stark _must’ve_ added a chute he added damn near everything else and if he didn’t brake in two seconds he was gonna splat against—

CRRRRRRRRRRRRRUNCH!

Two red gauntlets slammed down over the tops of his wings, Rhodes literally snatching him out of the air; then the two of them were rocketing straight up—Sam could’ve sworn his shirt scraped the nearest wall—and out of the maze of billion-dollar mansions into the cool night air, heading back towards Stark’s home.

“I guess the test flight’s over,” he called out weakly as Rhodes towed him through the air. His face felt funny now that his nose wasn’t smushed against his skull as he attempted to break the sound barrier with his forehead.

“Wait ’til Tony makes adjustments,” Rhodes answered.

Stark and Steve were waiting for them, having obviously seen everything…somehow; Sam wouldn’t put it past Stark to have had cameras on the wings or on Rhodes filming the whole damn thing. Hell, he would’ve guessed Stark had joined them and watched from the sky if Stark didn’t look half-buried in the pile of holographic notes.

“I’m drawing up specs for a flight suit,” Stark said as he swiped through screens. Rhodes lowered Sam to the ground with his now broken wings. Steve, trying not to laugh, stepped up to help Sam out of his harness.

“That looked fun,” Steve said.

“Other than the part where I nearly killed myself,” Sam agreed. Reality was sinking in alongside gravity. “And the part where the entirety of Malibu’s blue boys are gonna come up here and kill us. I think we broke every single city bylaw ten times over. I’m pretty sure there were some state and federal laws in the mix too.”

“Nah. They live with _Tony_ , Wilson,” Rhodes said breezily. “Far as they’re concerned, it was just a training exercise.”

Sam snorted. Stark positively glowed, basking in the compliment. Of _course_ he’d take it as a compliment.

“Gimme two days to tune it up,” Stark said to Steve with an air of great satisfaction. “And then you’ll finally have your wingman.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Nef, this is totally your fault. (And Sholio, yours too. :D) Why has this turned into a series? This was not supposed to happen. *groan*
> 
> Iron Man is bigger in stature than Sam + a jetpack, so I figured Falcon should be able to bank better than Iron Man or War Machine, especially as the latter two should be able to reach much higher speeds because of their flight suit.
> 
> As before, I prefer War Machine to Iron Patriot as a name…and really, after SHIELD’s collapse, Iron Patriot sounds awfully ironic. :)
> 
> The title is of course a throwback to IM1 and Rhodey’s awesome “training exercise” lines.


End file.
